


Newlywed Spirit

by daisybrien



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Egging, Egging a House, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Illegal Activities, Just Married, Loving Marriage, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4605009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisybrien/pseuds/daisybrien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ted helps Andromeda show her family exactly what she thinks of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Newlywed Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> Don't egg people's houses it is very illegal.

Ted almost drops the carton of eggs as they stumble their way onto the courtyard, his arms almost crushing the cardboard as he clutches it to his chest. He straightens himself out, shaking away the dizziness Apparition always brings him as he plants his feet onto the soft grass of solid ground. He thinks he will never grow accustomed to it in all the years he may live as a wizard, many things of the wizarding world seeming to boggle his mind, from the irritatingly difficult details of spellwork to the awkwardly stifling culture, even after the years in school that had taught him all about the world he had been thrust into without even the slightest sense of direction. Yet as he looks up at the cold, menacing stone face of the Black mansion in front of him, spikes lining the terrace, the tall, oak doors all but welcoming, he doesn’t think anything would amaze and confuse him the same way he is sure this moment will.

Andromeda is already leagues ahead of him by the time he finds his balance. She runs forward in a white, puffy mess, her dress billowing behind her like a parachute, curls bouncing against her shoulders. He sees the hints of dirt sinking into the hem of her skirt, a result of her giddiness of the last few hours, the euphoria of being a newlywed bride seeming to swell in her, making her glow, cheeks flushed red and lips stretched in carefree smiles.

“Well, come on.” She turns around, the white dress like a cloud twirling around her as she does so. She raises one arm, waving him forward, and he has no other desire than to follow her. “We don’t have all day.”

He shakes his head as he catches up to her, offering her his hand as he steps to her side. She takes it, their fingers interlocking in a vice as she pulls him forward, Ted stumbling over the loose shoelaces of his dress shoes. 

“You’re going to ruin that dress if you’re not careful,” Ted says. He wonders if she cares, his own doubt in the dress’ value apparent now that he was so close to it again. The fabric was worn out, the smell of dust permanently settled into its lacy pores, loose threads and slouching, weak buttons dotting what would have been a perfect gown. Even his own suit, too big for his skinny shoulders, shared the same quality, what used to be a stark, crisp black pattern slowly fading into grey. 

He had felt guilty about it, their clothes fished out of the thrift store his parents ran in a quaint suburb outside of London, the ceremony a small affair in his backyard garden, obviously unfit for someone of such regal origins as his wife. But she hadn’t cared, had practically pranced through the entire thing as if in a dream; maybe she was happy of where he would bring her, thrusting her into a whole new world as she did him, the two of them a mishmash of traditions and customs. Their lack of luxury would be a small price to pay for their chance to be together.

“The marks of our memories can’t ruin anything, no matter how much of a stain they may look like,” Andromeda giggles, pulling him along. “Plus, it’s not like I’m going to wear this again, or like I’m going to want to get another one.” 

They stop, the spires of the ancient manor shooting up to pierce the blue skies above them. Weathered windows line the cold stone of the mansion in neat, orderly rows, black and dreary. Spikes line the eave troughs and roof, a threat to those who threaten to deface its royal stature.

Andromeda stands brave and proud in front of it, her chest open and head held high as she faces it head on. “Open the carton, Ted.”

“As you wish, my queen,” Ted says, his face twisting into a grin. He couldn’t believe they were actually doing this.

He holds out the carton in front of him, opening it like a treasure chest, each egg thankfully intact as they sit in their neat little rows. Andromeda reaches in with nimble fingers, thumb and forefinger plucking one from its nest. She holds it up in front of her nose, eyes perusing it like a precious, peculiar artifact from an ancient tome. Once deemed satisfactory enough, her face breaks into a mischievous smile, eyes shining as she looks over the egg at him.

“Is this really what Muggles do for revenge?” she laughs. She bounces the egg in her hand, watching it with a look of absolute astonishment, like she had never seen one before in her life.

“Sometimes,” Ted says. “Or as a prank. The stains are a horrible struggle to remove.”

“Is there anything that leaves worse?” she asks.

“Well there are other things,” he muses, “stink bombs, toilet paper. But eggs are really the easiest thing to get.” He smirks, taking his own egg out of the carton. “And the most fun to use.”

The two share the same impish grin, shaking out their limbs, stretching out their arms in preparation.

“You ready?” Ted asks.

“Oh yeah.”  
“Any particular place I should aim?”

“Anywhere,” Andromeda says. She leans her head on his shoulder, their cheeks pressed hot against each other. The flutter of her breath against his skin sends the butterflies in his stomach into a flurry. Even after marriage, she still makes him feel like a lovesick fool. Maybe that’s why he fell head over heels for her in the first place.

One of her hands rise in front of them, his eyes following it as she points to a dirty glass window in the building’s face. A shock of bright red peeks above the bottom edge of the sill, the only spot of colour on the dreary, cold façade. 

“That’s Sirius’ guest room,” she says. She turns to him, smiling as he nods in understanding; her soft spot for her little cousins are unending, their wellbeing the only thing that gave her a reason to stay for the seventeen long years of solitude and exhaustion, caused by the people she never granted the privilege of calling family, and will fortunately never have to again. She had told him in the late hours of the night, in abandoned corridors with swollen lips and mingling breaths, that it had hurt to leave them, that cutting the final thread between them had made her bleed. He could only hope that they would understand, follow in her footsteps to be bigger people than the ones that thought they even attempted to raise them, and gain the same thirst for troublemaking and rebellion that she seemed to have rooted deep in her belly. “Aim for everything but that window.”

“Got it,” he says. 

He hands his wife the carton, taking firm hold of the egg in his hand, his fingertips running over the smooth surface of the shell. He steps forward, the stiff fabric of his suit pulling at his arm as he winds it back, ready to launch the fragile thing into the stone before he stops.

“Ladies first,” Ted says.

The smile slides from Andromeda’s face, leaving behind a wide-eyed look of shock. “Me?”

“Well, of course,” he says, “It’s your place to take revenge. To state your rebellion. It’s only right for you to take the first throw.”

“Oh,” she says, a breathy laugh bubbling its way from her lips. “I don’t have a very good arm, though.”

“That shouldn’t stop you,” he says. 

“True,” she says. She grunts, reaching into the thin, lace sleeve of her dress, the end of a thin, wooden rod slipping from the hem around her wrist. She grips her wand tightly, lifting her own egg by its tip, leaving it to levitate in its wake as she winds her arm backwards. “I just want to make sure the first throw is particularly good.”

She throws her body forward with frightening force, a scream of triumph grinding out of her throat as her arm swings above her in an arc. He watches as the egg goes flying once her arm reaches full height, nothing but a white blur in its momentum, shining as it catches the light of the sun. The two of them wait with baited breath, giddily anticipating the result of its final resting place against the white stone.

She had secured her fate so many times over the years, her life up to now seeming to be dedicated to prove her love for everything against the will of those who had tried to control her, tried and failed to get their grubby, oppressive fingers into her head, skew her view into something hateful, something that could never be as beautiful as the person she is now. She had forged her own future with each of their dizzying kiss of the lips, had dug her way out from the hole her family threatened to have her suffocate in with the simple ring on her finger, had chipped away at the stone they had written her future in with every scream and protest, every lash and strike to her face as a repercussion markings on a new stone, a new future she would carve out herself. But as the egg strikes wall, the shell breaking with a delicate crack and its contents splattering out like a supernova, they both know the final mark had been made, the final tie cut, the last testament to the future she has finally escaped, and the one she will create for herself out of the love she had learned and had bloomed from her of her own accord.

She shrieks in delight as she hears it crack, a mess of shattered shell and yoke left to slide pathetically to the ground, streaking the building’s wall.

“This is so exciting,” she says breathily, jumping about like a child, her dress ballooning around her. “Give me another one. I want to give them hell.”

One by one, the eggs start to disappear from the case, the crackling of eggshell and woops of laughter echoing through the courtyard. Their hands grow greedy, the muscles in their arms sore as they lose themselves in the moment. Soon, the stone face of the mansion is no longer barren and cold, but decorated in the sickly sweet smell of raw egg, walls coloured in splatters of shiny white and bright globs of yellow.

Their hands meet as they both reach into the carton for the last egg, the two sputtering before Ted relinquishes his grasp, stepping back to let his wife take the final throw.

“Such a gentlemen,” Andromeda snorts, snatching up the last egg, leaving the carton empty on the grass. 

“Make it a good one,” Ted says.

“Like I’m going to wimp out on this one,” she says. She steps forward, holding her head high as she readies herself. “I’m going to make this the best one.”

She does it in one swift, wavelike movement, swinging back and launching forward with the same, fluid motion, her dress flying around her like bird’s wings as she soars away in her freedom. The egg flies, seeming to float in the air for the smallest of moments before inevitably falling to the ground. It spirals down, the two of them watching and cheering as it trails its way towards the entrance of the manor.

The double doors creak open before it has the chance to make its mark.

The two watch in horror as it flies over the shoulder of the figure standing in the doorway, its crack inaudible in the grimy darkness tucked away inside the twisting halls of the mansion. They stand in shock, watching as the woman straightens up, her brown hair a stringy mess and her face drawn and wrinkled, her arms coming down from shielding herself from the offending projectile.

“Oh no,” Andromeda whispers, her hand slowly reaching for Ted’s in solidarity. Their eyes meet from across the expanse of the courtyard, Andromeda tensing beside him as a flicker of recognition washes over the woman’s face. It begins to unwind, twisting and curling into a grotesque figure, her mouth opening in a dark maw as it lets out an ear splitting screech, the skin and sinew of her face stretching as though inches from tearing. He can only think of her as a ghoul before Andromeda yanks at his sleeve, pulling him away, turning their backs to the tower.

The world turns into a flurry of movement and noise around him, the trees and foliage around him a blur of green as Andromeda pulls him. Her mother’s voice is a grating screech in their ears, the two of them breaking into a tumbling sprint, tripping on each other’s legs, feet trampling flowerbeds and dress hems in their frantic escape. Their breathing grows ragged, the two whipping their arms backwards aimlessly to shoot spells behind them as lines of bright colour fly by their ears; Ted feels his stomach sink as a flash of green zips past his ear, almost hearing it crackle against the ends of his hair. They trip through the gates to the gravelly trail outside, the screams growing muffled and distant as Ted feels himself being hugged by a pair of arms, white blinding him from the world outside, and then only darkness, and the endless, nauseating squeezing, around him, inside him, knocking the breath out of him.

He gasps as they stumble into an abandoned alleyway, both grunting as their bodies hit the cold, hard cement. He groans, throwing a hand over his eyes, shielding himself from the world spinning around him, the ground swaying underneath his body like waves on the sea. When the world finally grows solid, its stability tangible, he sits up. The street outside the alleyway is familiar; they’re only a few blocks from his house, where the ceremony had been.

Andromeda stands above him, arms crossed over her chest impatiently, smirking. “Are you done moping yet?”

“That was exciting,” Ted groans, slowly lifting himself off the floor. He brushes the dust off him, only for hands to grip his wrists, pulling him towards her and wrapping them around her neck.

“It sure was,” she purrs, her own arms winding their way around his waist. Their noses are inches away, her brown eyes shining as they meet his. “We should do it again.”

He feels the corners of his lips curl, cheeks sore from laughing. “Maybe we should wait a while before we do it again.”

“We could always go somewhere else,” she says. “My aunt has been particularly harsh this year, I think it would be a good idea to show just exactly what I think about her.”

“Thrusting ourselves back into danger,” Ted chuckles. “We just got married, ‘Dromeda, I would like to enjoy married life for a couple hours before harassing the people who want to kill us again.”

“We’ll go tomorrow, then,” she says. She straightens her skirt, reaching out a hand for him. He takes it, letting her lead him out of the alley. “See if there are more eggs in the fridge, so we don’t have to stop at the convenience store on our way there. Not that I don’t think it’s cool, and I still have to try those cold slushy drinks you told me about. What even makes those little things swirl inside the big machines anyway?”

Ted snorts, trotting beside her. “There is plenty to explain and plenty of time to do it,” he says. “First, I think we should go home.”

“Jumping out of mischief so early in the day,” she muses. “I thought you didn’t enjoy the idea of married life pulling you down.”

“Right now, I would rather prefer mischief that doesn’t involve eggs, or throwing them at people who hate me,” he says. He leans forward, pulling her towards him, his lips brushing against her ear. “Particularly a kind of mischief that also doesn’t involve you wearing that dress.”

She pulls away from him, her eyes wide, mouth open in a shocked grin as she gapes at him. “Ted!”

“It’s not like it would be something new to us,” he says. 

“I didn’t say I would mind,” she laughs back. She pulls him out of the alley, the two of them drawing eyes as they make their way down the street hand in hand, Muggles parting with wide smiles to lay a path for them down the road. He feels her hand squeeze his, turning to face him with a grin, tripping on her high heels as she walks backwards on the sidewalk.

She turns around with a wink, leaving him to stare at the disheveled locks tumbling over her shoulders. He lets her lead him, watching as she pulls him into his little suburb, ready to follow her wherever else she may ever lead him.

**Author's Note:**

> Another reminder. Don't egg people's stuff. Don't do it. Respect the law.
> 
> Also don't even try to tell me Andromeda didn't help fuel Sirius' rebellious spirit. Those two caused the Black family so much hell together and you can't tell me otherwise.
> 
> Also also first tedromeda piece can I get a hell yeah.


End file.
